


Mess

by SubwayWolf



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Blankets, Drunken Confessions, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Marijuana, Road Trips, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While filming their road trip across Romania, night falls, and the hosts have to sleep in their cars. James would rather sleep alone, but Richard won't let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Another installment of Top Gear fics Named After Ben Folds Five Songs.

James May crept out of his Lamborghini Gallardo drowsily. Not really in the mood to be kind to the lavish car, he slammed its door shut and the resulting noise echoed through the night, startling Hammond, who had just gotten out of his Ferrari California.

James was in a horrible mood. He’d expected a whale of a time on a trip across Romania but the destruction of his brand-new Dacia Sandero, the faults of his Lamborghini, and the incessant annoyance from Hammond and Clarkson aggravated James beyond return. He hated being proved wrong – James knew he had made the wrong choice with the Gallardo, and he didn’t need them to be going on about it.

A cold gust of wind flushed through James’ sports jacket and made its way underneath his t-shirt, which, residing beneath the coat, ruffled in the wind and sent a shiver up his spine. The sudden decrease in temperature didn’t improve James’ mood. After taking a blanket out of the boot of his Lambo, he shrugged it over his shoulders. It provided little comfort, but it was better than nothing.

He made his way to Jeremy's Aston-Martin DBS, dragging his feet along the tarmac. Richard Hammond, rubbing his hands together to create heat, walked alongside James on the way to Jeremy's car. Hammond and May didn’t talk to each other, just trekked along.

Jeremy grinned as he saw the two approach but James didn’t grin back. James brought a hand up to fix his own hair, brushing the grey-and-brown wiry locks out of his eyes. He and Hammond came to a halt outside the front door of the Aston-Martin, waiting for Jeremy, as Clarkson was bent over in his car and fiddling with a plastic carrier bag that was in the glove compartment. 

“Listen,” Jeremy assured May and Hammond, “I can cheer you two up.” 

James watched with a raised eyebrow as Jeremy turned and took something out of the bag he had set on his seat. 

Jeremy grinned. “Would you like some cannabis?” 

The stress melted from James’ face and replaced itself with a small grin. “Yes please.”

* * *

It didn’t take long before James was annoyed again.

As he was curled up in the driver’s seat of his Lamborghini, he started to ache. He had adjusted the position of his seat accordingly into as good of a sleeping fashion as he could muster, but James was still cramping up. 

The Gallardo was obviously the wrong car to bring, but then again, James was expecting a bed to sleep in, so having a car without a backseat shouldn’t be held against him. 

In an effort to increase leg room, he lifted the armrests and shifted his body so he was angled in such a way that his back pressed against the door and his feet were up with the gear shift directly in between them.

James let his eyes fall closed as he grasped the red-and-green blanket tightly around his body. His head fell forward so his chin rested on his chest, and James slowly began to fall asleep…

But the blare of a car horn shook the silence and startled James, awakening him as he jumped in his seat. He furrowed his brow, cussing to himself, listening angrily as Jeremy shouted a series of sorry’s from his car.

When Richard began to holler back at Jeremy in annoyance, James lost all hope for a cool breeze and instead rolled his window shut.

The Lambo was quiet on the inside, and the blaring car horn sounded a hundred miles away before it stopped altogether. James only heard the sound of his breathing, and faintly his own heart. Maybe the Gallardo wasn’t a bad choice after all.

James again let his eyes fall closed, his hair falling over his eyes and tickling his nose. He felt his chest expand and deflate as he inhaled and exhaled. At the sound of his steady, relaxed heartbeat, James finally dozed off.

But again he was awoken. 

“James?”

May’s eyes opened halfway.

“Jaaaaaaaaaames?”

His eyes shot open. James looked around rapidly at his surroundings, which were pitch black. Had he gone blind?

There was tapping on the window, and a muffled voice said, “Open up!”

May pawed around the vehicle until he found the window button, and when he found it he pressed it down. The window didn’t open, so he pressed the button next to that one, and it was successful, opening the window all the way.

“You opened your boot.” James could nearly hear Richard smiling.

James pawed at his eyes groggily. “Why are you awake? Is someone hurt?” It was his natural instinct to think so. 

James’ vision began to adjust to the lack of light, and he could see the faint outline of a messy-haired Hammond grinning from the outside. May could smell the liqueur on Richard’s breath as the shorter man spoke to him. “No,” said Richard, “I just wanted to chat, that’s all.”

“Go to bed, Hammond.” James watched as Richard’s shadow abruptly shook its head. “Well go bother Jeremy. What time is it?”

“I dunno,” he said. “But it’s black as pitch, cold, and I can’t find my key to turn the heating on.”

James sighed again and pulled the blanket over his head. “How am I supposed to help you with that? I don’t have night-vision.”

“Can’t I just stay with you?”

James paused for a moment, said “No,” and rolled the window up. When Richard’s whinging could be heard even after the window was shut, James opened it again. “Shut the boot first and I’ll let you in.”

Just in time, May shut the window, muffling Hammond’s cheers of joy.

As Richard made his way around the back, James pondered the situation. Why was Hammond acting so strangely? This had happened before, however, and on numerous occasions, but it was when Richard slept in Jeremy’s car, never James’. In fact, Richard had previously agreed with Clarkson on the conclusion that James’ Gallardo was shit, so May was even more confused at why Richard hadn’t run to the Aston-Martin.

James unlocked the doors, allowing Richard to crawl inside. Hammond mumbled a quick “thanks, James,” as he shut the door behind him and settled into his seat.

James closed his eyes again but wasn’t asleep. He would be soon, because his own breathing and the faint sound of Hammond’s inhalations created a smooth rhythm that sparked a smooth piano melody to play fuzzily in May’s head. He began to doze off again.

“I’m cold.”

James’ was awoken yet again, the song in his head coming to a halt. He sighed softly through his nose, assuming that this is what it would be like taking care of a child. “I don’t have any spare blankets.”

“Can’t I share yours?” Richard asked innocently. James opened one eye to glare at the younger man, but without the outdoor aid of moonlight, everything was again invisible. Richard added, “Please?”

James knew that protesting would just give him less time to sleep, so he mumbled some sort of drowsy approval and extended his right arm, figuring Hammond would take the half of the sheet he was given.

Richard, instead of sitting beside May, positioned himself between James’ forearm and chest, putting his head in the crook of James’ armpit and nuzzling close to him.

James, shocked and repulsed by the awkward embrace, attempted to move his arm out from beneath Richard so he wasn’t hugging him.

Softly, Richard let out, “No, it’s okay,” and he had said this in such a way that he somehow eased James to relax from his tensed position and allow Richard to lay in his arms.

James, confused, fidgeted in his seat as Richard pressed closer to his body. “What are you doing?” he asked, but figured he didn’t want to know, and followed up with an abrupt, “Stop it.”

Richard didn’t stop it. “Why?” he asked innocently, scooting up and burying his nose into the crook of James’ neck.

“Because-…” James lost the rest of his words when he caught a whiff of Hammond. Richard had, ever since James could remember, smelled like cherries – those dark red ones, almost black, with that scent that reminded James of an extensively-aged wine – that’s what Hammond smelled like.

But today, along with the cherry scent, May got a whiff of the tonic on his mate’s breath. He recalled Hammond only having two glasses of the liqueur before Jeremy had “accidentally” smashed it to the ground, but Richard had never been able to hold his booze very well; likely, two glasses was enough to make Hammond act the way he was acting.

James regained his ability to speak. “You’re drunk, Richard.”

“Am not,” he protested, sure of himself.

James was about to say “are too” but that would get them nowhere. So instead he said nothing, just tried to fall asleep and get this over with. 

He was interrupted again.

“You’re warm, May…”

James gritted his teeth. This behavior was annoying him even more. He didn’t think anything could have irritated him further, since he was already pretty upset at the belittling he received for his Lamborghini.

Richard had slung an arm around James’ waist, and James just lay there, stiff, refusing to relax into the embrace. This was getting ridiculous. “Get out of the car, Richard.”

“No,” was the reply James received. Richard breathed warm breath onto James’ neck, tickling him. “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Stop it,” James commanded. “This isn’t funny, whatever you’re trying to do.”

Hammond bluntly ignored him and didn’t budge. “You have beautiful eyes, May. All blue and stuff…”

“Stop it,” James repeated. 

“And your hair…all soft and it’s so cute the way it gets tangled…”

“Stop.”

“…how your voice turns rough when you’re frustrated…”

“Hammond…”

“…the way you’re so smart and passionate about stuff…”

“Hammond!”

“You’re beautiful, James May. Everything about you…”

“HAMMOND!” James couldn’t take it anymore. “Shut up!”

Richard did shut up, but wrapped his arms more tightly around James’ chest. James was still tensed up inside the grip.

Richard spoke again. “Why are you so defensive?” When James didn’t bother to reply, Hammond continued. “Is it because no one has ever told you that before?”

This comment startled James. At first he was offended, but that emotion eased into that of humiliation. Hammond was right. James had never been told any of those things before. The realization of this flushed all the tension out of James’ body as he eased into Richard’s arms, feeling sorry for himself.

“And if you think I’m lying,” Richard whispered to James, “I assure you, I’m not. I mean every word of it.” 

James was so emotionally knackered at the moment that he didn’t protest Richard putting his hand up to James’ face and brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes for him.

“I’m being honest with you,” the brown-eyed man continued, “You really are so amazing. I’m sorry I’ve never gotten around to telling you that ever before.”

James didn’t even know that was an apology, but he decided to accept it anyway. He placed his other arm around Hammond, holding the man snugly in his arms, breathing in his scent. A silent thank-you.

It was then that James noticed there were tears in his eyes. There could have been many reasons why he was tearing up, and likely Hammond was the cause, but James couldn’t put his finger on a correct cause and figured it was just the result of a collection of absolutely everything. 

Richard looked up at James and, somehow able to tell that May was crying, whispered a soft, “It’s okay, James.”

James was bombarded with so many emotions at once that when Richard sat up straight and kissed James on the cheek, May didn’t even flinch.

James, his back pressed up against the door, let his eyes fall closed, squeezing the last of the tears out of them.

Richard left a gentle kiss on James’ mouth before he whispered a calm, “You’ll feel better soon, James.” He was mere inches away from James’ lips. He kissed them once again, for the last time, before moving away.

Finally, after all the fuss and hassle, James again began to doze off, listening to the final, sweet-sounding words of Richard saying, “You’ll feel better when you wake up…”

A while of silence as James slipped into sweet, well-deserved sleep.

* * *

“WAKE UP!”

James opened one eye and then, shocked, opened the other.

It was daylight. James pawed around for Hammond, but he was nowhere to be found. James’ eyes darted around his Lamborghini confusedly as he searched for the booming voice that he had previously heard, but he was completely alone.

And suddenly James fell backwards. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact, but he was stopped: his head hit the door. James reacted with a pained groan.

“Rise and shine, May.”

James opened his eyes again to see Jeremy stand over him. Clarkson had pulled the door open which caused James to fall backwards. Upon realizing this, James shot a glare up at Jeremy. Clarkson shrugged in response, and then offered a hand to help his mate up. James, although aggravated, accepted it and he rose with Jeremy’s aid.

When James was on his feet, he caught a glimpse of Hammond, who stood quietly at the door of his Ferrari, hands in his pockets, looking drowsy. James, realizing that the escapade with Hammond was nothing but a dream, frustrated himself. He felt sick to his stomach that he would think of Hammond in that way – although it was entirely subconscious, James was still ashamed.

For no reason, James’ heart began to pick up its pace as the messy-haired Hammond approached him. “Hey,” May said coolly, but it came out rough and staggered, suggesting James was nervous, which he was.

Thankfully, Richard didn’t seem to notice. “Morning, James,” he grinned. “Feeling better?”

James was alarmed at the question, but realized Richard was likely referring to James’ attitude and was relieved. “Yeah, better. I slept well.”

“Me too,” said Richard, and James could swear Hammond was blushing.

“May?” called out Jeremy from the Gallardo, and James turned around at the sound of his name. “What in the hell were you doing with your doors unlocked?”

James wondered the same. He distinctively remembered locking them before he slept, but they must have somehow become unlocked during the night. 

James turned to Hammond. Richard was grinning, but he quickly let out a vague cough and covered his mouth.

And, ignoring any ambiguous suspicious regarding Hammond, James made his way back to his Lambo to continue his aggravating journey.


End file.
